Okay
by Ceresi
Summary: When a bombshell is dropped, there’s a shaky path back to okay.


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Title: Okay

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Author: Ceresi

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Rating: PG-13

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Summary: When something happens, there's a shaky path back to okay.

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Author's Note: Jordan, my love, I think you were supposed to write this one. But as it turns out, I did. Happy Christmas!

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Seto opened the door to find Joey staring at him miserably, floppy bangs falling into puppy-dog eyes.

He kept his hand on the door knob. "What?"

Joey looked down at the ground and scuffed his toe. "I told him."

"Tristan?" Seto asked.

"Yeah. On, um . . . on accident."

Seto stared at him for a long moment, thinking intently, and then stepped aside. He kept his gaze locked above Joey's head. "You might as well come in," he said flatly.

Joey entered meekly, sliding off his shoes and leaving them by the door. He followed Seto through the mansion in his socks, hands crammed into his pockets. When he looked up, it was to cast a longing glance at the back of Seto's head, only to turn his eyes back down after Seto ignored him.

They finally reached an office. Seto pushed opened the doors and went straight to his desk, sitting behind it and pulling some papers in front of him.

Joey sat on the edge of the table. There were footprints on it where Mokuba had done the same thing.

There was a moment of silence as Seto worked for a few minutes. Finally, Joey said, "He was mad at me."

Seto glanced at him, pushed the paper aside and went to work on the next. "What did he say?"

Relieved, Joey told him.

~

Bakura pulled his feet up onto the bench, hunched a little lower. The ring he wore around his neck poked him in the belly -- quickly he rearranged himself, glancing at the thing as if worried that he might have offended it.

Yugi, he figured a moment later, had only been trying to help. And to all appearances, he probably had. Bakura now knew that there was _something_ living in the artifact around his neck, something that took over his body sometimes and made him do . . . horrible things. 

The other Yugi had made it a point to come out and reassure Bakura that it wasn't his fault, that it really was the Something Else that made him do these things. Yugi told him the same thing, eyebrows drawn together in concern.

But Bakura still shivered at the mental image of himself plucking out one of Pegasus's eyes, of all the blood, of . . . . He wasn't squeamish, really, but who _liked_ the thought of something possessing them? No one.

And what if, what if the . . . Something Else . . . was listening right now? Could the Something Else hear him think? Yugi hadn't said and Bakura had been too overwhelmed to ask. Was the Something Else laughing at him right now for his fear?

And how did he know when he was being possessed? He couldn't remember a single time, although Yugi told him that it had happened more than once.

Bakura glanced around the small clearing of the park he was hiding in, half expecting to see a shadowy figure lurking in the shrubbery. There was nothing there, of course, which only left him even more frightened. If the Something Else wasn't outside of him, then it was inside of him -- inside his head.

Of course, that was where it spent most of it's time. He'd seen it only once. The spirit's cruel smile and heavy-lidded eyes frightened him so badly that he pushed his face into the pillow and refused to talk to it.

Eventually, it got tired of laughing at him and went away, only to sound it's horrible voice in his mind. Laughing at him. Taunting him for his fear. He showed up at school two hours late, eyes red, dark circles smeared beneath them.

He heard it at other times, too. Sometimes murmuring cruel things about people he passed on the street, sometimes mocking him for his shyness, his soft voice. Once it mocked him for looking at a boy too long.

Shivering, Bakura wrapped his arms around himself. He was driving himself mad with fear, terrified that the Something Else would appear and Do Something Evil with his body. Maybe Yugi shouldn't have told him anything at all . . .

Into these chaotic thoughts spilled the sound of footsteps. They didn't register at first: when they did, Bakura's head flew up, his back stiffened -- he whipped his head around, hair flying, to see who it was.

~

"And then it just . . . popped out." Joey had moved to the chair in front of Seto's desk and was picking at his fingernail. "I was mad, Seto! Could have fuckin' killed him."

Seto turned the page in a packet that he was skimming and said, "I take it you didn't."

"Naw, he ran off." Joey clenched his fist like he was going to punch his seat in his rage. Seto gave him a warning look.

Joey's hand dropped to his side. "What am I gonna do?"

Seto shrugged carelessly and continued skimming.

~

Joey was gay. Or bi, actually.

All right, that was all right. Didn't really matter or anything, Tristan wasn't that much of a jerk. Joey was his best friend. Joey was gay. Bi. Didn't matter.

Joey was gay _-- bi _-- with Kaiba.

That mattered. That fucking mattered. That fucking took the fucking cake for fucking mattering. That redefined the word _matter_.

Yeah, Joey bi, that was perfectly okay. Tristan didn't care. _He_ wasn't gay. No way, he was straight, thankyouverymuch, he dated Serenity for a whole month and a half and looked down Mai's shirt when he got the chance. But if Joey wanted to be gay -- he was cool with that. He really was.

But being gay with Kaiba? He drew the line there, he really did. Kaiba was a prick and an ass hole (gay pun not intended), Kaiba was cold-hearted and an evil manipulative bastard. Had Joey forgotten everything they saw in the virtual world so quickly? Tristan might have been a monkey but at least he'd been listening! Even _other_ evil manipulative bastards thought that Kaiba was an evil manipulative bastard.

What was Joey thinking? Tristan wasn't gonna forgive him for this. It was completely intolerable. Joey and Kaiba, dating, kissing, the works. Totally wrong.

Tristan shook his head and kicked a small rock down the path. He looked around briefly, long enough to realize that he was in a park, and then went back to his thoughts.

Maybe if he talked to Joey and explained things, Joey would break up with Kaiba. When Tristan thought back, he couldn't really remember if he'd said anything really, you know, nasty about the gayness. So maybe he could say he had a problem with Kaiba, and Joey would be the pal Tristan knew he was, and break things up.

And then everything would be normal and Joey wouldn't be gay anymore.

__

But he still would be, an insidious little inside-voice muttered. _He'd feel bad._

__

Kaiba will make him feel bad, Tristan snapped.

__

It's the wrong thing to do, the voice continued. _You should just let them be together and get over it._

Kaiba's a total bastard, Tristan protested. _I'm not gonna let him mess with Joey like that. _

__

Right, the voice muttered. _You're just making excuses._

Tristan kicked his rock especially hard and watched it skitter off the path and into the grass. He realized belatedly that someone was sitting on a bench to his left -- he looked over and found a pair of big brown eyes staring over a narrow shoulder.

Tristan straightened. "Hey," he said, a little alarmed. Bakura looked like he'd seen a ghost.

Bakura glanced around skittishly and then at him.

"I -- oh, hi, I -- figured no one would be -- hi."

Tristan stepped off the path and went to Bakura's side, his problems thankfully pushed to the back of his mind. "Everything all right, Bakura?"

~

"I could try talkin' to Yugi," Joey said. "But . . . I don't know."

Seto moved onto the next document.

There was a long, awkward silence, broken only by the scratching of Seto's pen. Joey shifted a little in his chair and blurted, "I'm sorry."

Seto put his pen down. "It took you long enough."

"I didn't mean to tell him," Joey said defensively. "I told you that! It was an accident."

"It doesn't matter," Seto said, coldly. "I didn't want anyone to know for a reason. If the media finds out . . ."

Joey slumped, put his elbows on Seto's desk and moved to hide his face. "Look, I'm fuckin' sorry, I'm a total loser, apparently, it just popped out, I --"

Seto reached out suddenly and caught Joey's shoulder, forced him to look up. Their eyes met hesitantly, for the first time since Seto let Joey in. And for the first time, Seto noticed how overly bright they were, how red.

They stared for a moment, and then Seto said, "Try talking to Yugi."

"You think it'll help?" Joey asked in a tiny voice.

"Can't hurt."

Joey bowed his head, looking down at Seto's hand for a moment. "I don't think Tristan will tell anyone."

"He'd better not," Seto said.

An argument might have ensued on Tristan's behalf, but when Joey lifted his head to get things going, Seto leaned over his desk and kissed him.

Joey leaned forward, pressing their mouths even more tightly together -- he reached up and cupped Seto's face, a ridiculously needy sound coming from the back of his throat. 

Seto's hand tightened on his shoulder, his other came to rest against Joey's rib cage, lightly traced a pattern. Joey shivered and combed his fingers through Seto's hair. Fuck, who gave a fuck about what Tristan said?

They broke apart. Joey realized that he was half out of his seat in an attempt to get closer to Seto.

"Should I," Joey paused as Seto looked at him, "come to -- your side of the desk, easier --"

"Don't be stupid," Seto said, composed as ever. He marked something down on the last paper he'd been working on and walked around the desk, crossing to the couch beside the table that Joey had been sitting on earlier. He looked back at Joey and waited.

Joey followed quickly, carefully resting his weight against Seto's long legs. "Is this okay?"

Seto grabbed a fistful of his hair and showed him how okay it was.

~

"I've just been a little - ah - skittish, lately." Bakura clamped his hands over his elbows and stared miserably at his knees. "It's nothing to worry about Tristan, really."

"Bull it's not something to worry about, look at you, you're shaking." Tristan sat at Bakura's side -- on a whim, he took off his jacket and put it around the smaller boy's shoulders.

Bakura touched the lapel of the jacket, and then glanced at him, mouth a small 'o'. "Thank you," he said, absurdly touched.

Embarrassed, Tristan shrugged. "Hey, no problem. Can't let a friend freeze to death, can I?"

Bakura smiled at him. The guy looked like he'd almost forgotten how. Just to reward him, Tristan smiled back, and tried not to laugh when Bakura straightened, fear dissolving into his continual good cheer.

"What are you doing out here so late, anyway?" Bakura asked politely.

Tristan's smile went away. He stared rigidly ahead. "I . . . got into an argument with Joey."

"Well, that's nothing new, is it?" Bakura asked. He tilted his head so that he could see Tristan's face. "Are you very bothered by it?"

"He was being a jerk," Tristan said firmly. "So, yeah, I guess."

Bakura looked thoughtful for a moment, and then asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"

~

Joey came up briefly for air, touched his forehead to Seto's and nuzzled his cheek. He could hear Seto panting, could feel his fingers digging into the small of his back. They were silent.

"I, um." Joey lifted his head so that he could see Seto's eyes, blue and intense. "I, ah. Really, um. Like. This. When we. You." He laughed softly, embarrassed, and looked away. "You know?"

Seto turned Joey's face back to him and kissed him, first just a little brush, and then harder, hotter, darker, flicking his tongue over Joey's lips and stealing entrance into his mouth.

Joey was still -- he might have been on top, but Seto was in charge of this kiss. He sighed when Seto's hands slipped under his shirt, warm and firm against his skin. Seto leaned into the couch and spread his legs, allowed Joey rest warmly between them and pressed against him. 

Joey felt his lips quirk into a smile. Seto's heart was racing against his -- he moved his hips slowly and felt it speed up even more.

The kiss ended. Seto brushed his lips over Joey's throat and then buried his face there for just a second. When he pulled up, Joey's eyes were round with surprise. Seto tightened his grip and shrugged a little. "I guess that's okay."

Joey brightened and kissed him.

~

"It's confusing," Tristan said awkwardly.

"Is it about him and Kaiba?" Bakura asked gently.

Tristan looked around at him, eyes huge. "Everyone knows about it?" he demanded sharply.

"No, no, of course not." Bakura flushed and drew Tristan's coat tighter around his shoulders. "I, er. I accidently saw them together once."

"Oh." Embarrassed, Tristan turned back around. "Sorry."

"It's all right."

They were silent for a moment. Tristan tugged on the hem of his shirt and said, "Yeah, I guess it is, you know. About them."

"Did he just tell you?"

  
"Sort of. I don't think he meant to, really. And then I sort of stormed off." Tristan looked up at the sky, angry all over again. "He was being a total prick! All because I said something bad about Kaiba!"

"Oh, no." Bakura looked so dismal that Tristan felt a surge of concern. Bakura continued. "Don't tell anyone, Tristan. What would happen to Kaiba if people found out?"

Tristan shrugged. "Who cares? Kaiba's a total ass hole. He deserves whatever he gets."

Bakura looked surprised. "Didn't you know?"

"Didn't I know what?"

Bakura sighed. "After Kaiba's step-father died, there was a huge investigation. I think he was blamed for what happened to Gozaburo."

Tristan stared at him.

"They couldn't prove it, but they said that he tricked Gozaburo into killing himself. He got off easy since he was a minor, but . . . that's why he's so good at hand-to-hand fighting. He would normally just carry a weapon, but if he uses so much as a a knife, he'll go to jail."

Bakura shrugged, eyes sad. "The court almost took Mokuba away from him. He had to fight for almost seven months to keep him." His eyes were distant, pained. "He refused to give up the last of his family . . ."

The silence stretched, taut, and eventually broke. Tristan asked, "You all right, man?"

Bakura shook himself and blinked up at him. "Oh, yes. It's just . . . don't tell anyone. Mokuba doesn't deserve to lose his brother."

Tristan scowled, but Bakura had a point. Besides, he liked Mokuba. The kid could be a brat, but he wasn't all bad. And his devotion to Seto was touching, if a bit frightening.

Was that what Bakura had been going on about? Tristan snuck a glance at his bench-partner. Bakura looked sad again, but then, he looked sad a great deal of the time.

Why would it matter to him, what happened to Kaiba's family? Of course, Bakura's sister and mother were dead, weren't they? And his father was . . . well, nowhere around. No wonder the kid looked so sad all the time. And on top of all of that, there was the spirit of the Ring to deal with . . . .

Suddenly reminded, Tristan straightened. "Hey, did Yugi talk to you?"

Bakura's eyes flew open wide. "What d'you mean?"

"You know, about the um, spirit?"

Bakura drew back from him slightly, Tristan's coat slipping slightly from his shoulders. "You -- you know about that?"

"Yeah, I've had the pleasure of meeting it a few times." Bakura was staring at him with an almost horrified expression. "Hey, Bakura, what's wrong?"

Bakura turned, his hair hiding his face. "No-nothing." He stood. "I have to go." He left Tristan's jacket on the bench. "Thanks --"

"Hey, wait." Tristan stood quickly and caught Bakura by the shoulders. "What's up with you, man?" Bakura said nothing. "I didn't freak you out by talkin' about the spirit, did I? I mean, that's not you. Trust me." Bakura looked up at him with wide, hopeful eyes. "If I can tell the difference, you know there's a huge one," Tristan joked.

Bakura looked away. "I just --" He shrugged. "I just found out about it a little bit ago," he said softly. "And it's frightening. I can . . ." He touched his hands to his ears. "I can hear his voice in my head sometimes."

Tristan stared for a moment, and then shivered a little. "Man, that's creepy. Why don't you just get rid of the ring?"

For a moment, Bakura was totally still. And then he jumped back, eyes huge, and grabbed Tristan's hands. "Tristan!"

Alarmed, Tristan tried to tug away. "What?"

"You're brilliant!" Bakura grabbed his necklace and pulled it over his head. "Of course! I can just . . ." And then he paused, staring down at the artifact.

Tristan frowned. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"I -- My father gave this to me," Bakura said softly. He looked emotional again. "I can't just destroy it."

Tristan shrugged a little and held out his hand. "Here."

Bakura lifted his head slowly to stare at him. He looked confused for a moment, and then understanding slowly dawned. "You want me to - to give it to you?"

"Why not?" Tristan forced a smile -- Bakura was so stunned that his eyes were filling with tears. "The ring can't possess anyone but you, right? I tried to get rid of it once but it didn't really work." Tristan shrugged at the memory. "So I'll just keep it with me, and safe, until we can find a way to get rid of the spirit."

Bakura hesitated. And then his eyes grew foggy, as if he was listening to something that Tristan couldn't hear.

Quickly, Tristan took the ring from his hands. Bakura blinked, and gave a little gasp. "He's gone!"

Tristan put the ring into his pocket. "And he'll stay that way," he promised. Bakura stared up at him. "I'll keep it safe, I swear."

Bakura pushed his hands through his hair, still pole-axed. "I -- I don't know what to say. Thank you. Thank you. I --"

Tristan ruffled his hair. "Nothin' to it, man."

Bakura eyes were too bright in the semi-darkness, but he nodded. "Yeah." He looked down at the bench and then picked up Tristan's coat and handed it to him. "You'd better put this on, you're going to get cold."

"Nah, I'll be fine." But Tristan put the coat back on anyway. He looked down at the boy next to him and said, "Are you heading home now?"

"Yeah." Bakura still looked dazed.

Tristan hesitated for a moment, but he was beginning to find that he _liked_ being around Bakura. Besides, the guy needed someone to look out for him. "I'll walk with you, 'kay?"

Bakura smiled at him, a little of vagueness disappearing from his eyes. "Okay."

~

Halfway through homeroom, Joey turned around, his elbow on Tristan's desk and asked, "We cool, man?"

Tristan kicked the back of his chair in that special way that annoyed Joey more than anything, and said, "We're cool."


End file.
